Steal My Heart Novel Read Online นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It was the picture that mattered—the last photograph I had, the one I can’t go a day without staring at. And this stupid girl had the audacity to take that from me, to steal something so precious and then throw it away like it meant nothing. I thought a billionaire like me was untouchable—people don’t just steal from someone like me without facing the consequences. It took some boldness for Elara Walker to pull that off, and I have to admit, there’s a certain strength in her that I can’t help but respect.

I just couldn't ignore what I was seeing. Unbeknownst to them, I had lingered behind, drawn to the glittering gems and sparkling diamonds like a moth to a flame. This was me, Hazel Willoughby, the real me, I couldn't resist the urge to steal these things. I looked around and when I noticed that the door was opened and no one was near to watch me. What a perfect timing.

Hi,it's your Author STARRY JOSTY Please I'm done with this story titled "MARRIED TO THE COLD-HEARTED BILLIONAIRE." PLEASE HELP SUPPORT MY NOVEL , THANK YOU. And the book two is titled, "THE COLD HEARTED BILLIONAIRE IS THE FATHER OF MY DAUGHTER." please anticipate,Read , comment,share and also vote for me. I'm glad I've been able to complete this story.

He forwarded me the address, and I smiled, an idea forming in my head. Packing up my stuff, I checked out of the hotel and booked a cab to Paris 18th in Sacré-Cœur. It would be my new home now. If Sydney refused to return to LA with me, I would settle in Paris with her. After all, home was where my heart was, and my heart was with her! A newfound excitement filled my heart. I knew she wouldn’t welcome me with open arms, but I planned to dump myself on her. I would beg and grovel until she forgave me and let me be a part of their life. Through my actions, I would prove my love for her. I would surely win her. How long would she bear a grudge against me?

Clearly, my death hadn't changed that. The irony was that my heart was still beating in her chest. Jonathan looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Selena Quigley, she donated her heart to you!" But even that didn't evoke any sense of gratitude in her. Maintaining her haughty tone, she retorted, "She was just a fishmonger's daughter. She should feel honored to have donated her heart to me! If there had been other donors, I wouldn't have taken that deaf-o's heart in the first place—"

She glanced back down at the leather-bound book resting on the floorboards beside her. The empty pages seemed to stare up at her, daring her to turn them. With a trembling hand, she picked it up again, the leather warm against her palm. She knew she should get up, should finish unpacking, should do something practical, anything to distract herself from the throbbing between her legs. But she couldn't. She was hooked. The anonymous writer had become a guide, a seductress whispering secrets into her ear, and Pinky was a willing student, desperate to learn every lesson.

It had been a long time since I had lost myself in a book, but one title called to me. I pulled it from the shelf and opened it to a random page, then brought it close to my face. I breathed in the scent of the paper, remembering all those days I had cried over the pages of different books, all because Hudi was gone. I settled onto the sofa, tucking my legs under a soft blanket. I stretched out, getting comfortable before I began to read. Once I was settled, I looked at the title again: *If Only He Loved Me*.

Who had gotten between a gun and our daughter without a moment of calculation. The truth was messy. It did not resolve cleanly into victim and villain. George had been manipulated, yes, and he had also, in his own prior silence, made himself available to manipulation. Both things were true. And the version of love I was being offered now was not the arranged, transactional, convenient love that had started this story. It was something harder and more honest. Something that had cost both of us considerably to arrive at. "I know," I said. George looked at me.

Thanks to all of you who read this book to the very end. Novel may not remember anything, but her heart knows she belongs to Alexei. Love is beautiful, and I hope each of you finds a love that fills your heart with happiness—a love your heart can recognize even when your mind cannot. Thank you all for your support. You can also check out my other book, I'm Your Brother's Wife, Dear Ace. Thank you! 😊